BONG!
“Twelve!” replied Grammy. “NOW!”
The boy leaped down on to the hammer, forcing all his weight on to it.
BONG!
YES! He had done it! Big Ben had struck thirteen times! The signal had been given.
The time for REVOLUTION was NOW!
Alfred beamed from ear to ear, even as his head s-h-h-o-o-o-o-k-k as the sound travelled through him. He leaped off the arm and back on to the platform.
“Excellent work, young prince!” exclaimed Grammy, embracing the boy.
“Thank you,” replied Alfred.
“That will have been heard across London. Word will spread throughout this country. The revolution has begun!”
“HURRAH!” cried out Enid and Agatha.
But their celebration was short-lived.
The four turned round to see that they were surrounded by a platoon of royal guards pointing their blasters at them.
This was the end.
One of the guards gestured for the Old Queen to put her weapon down.
The other three looked at her.
Grammy was no fool and dropped the blaster on to the floor.
CLATTER!
Another guard approached slowly and picked up the blaster as the others all kept their weapons trained on the gang.
Then one guard gestured for them to make their way out of the belfry and down the stairs.
Soon the gang of four had reached the narrow room that ran alongside one of the giant clock faces. The hands of the clock turned on a giant black rod, which they passed under as they walked.
Agatha still had her walking stick, and Alfred had a bright idea.
DING!
“Let me borrow this,” he hissed, and without a word she handed it to him.
As he passed under the rod, he scrambled up his grandmother’s back. Then, hooking the end of the walking stick on to the rod, Alfred swung towards the guards.
WHOOSH!
His foot clipped the helmet of the first one.
CLONK!
One by one, they knocked each other over.
CLONK! CLONK! CLONK!
In no time, they were lying in a heap on the floor.
“RUN!” ordered the Old Queen.
As fast as they could, which wasn’t really that fast, they made their way out of the clock room, and slammed the door shut behind them.
SCHTUM!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The guards all hammered on the door, but Agatha grabbed her walking stick and jammed it into the lock, keeping it closed.
SHONT!
Looking down over the balustrade, the Old Queen spied more guards now waiting at the bottom of the stairs for them.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM!
The door behind them was being blasted open.
“We’re trapped!” exclaimed Grammy.
“I have an idea,” said Alfred. “Follow me!”
He climbed on to the banister, and began sliding down as fast as he could go.
WHOOSH!
One by one, the three old dears followed.
WHOOSH!
WHOOSH!
WHOOSH!
“WAHEE!” exclaimed Enid.
“THIS IS FABULOUS!” added Agatha.
“MY BOTTY IS HOTTY!” hollered Grammy. “AND I LIKE IT!”
The royal guards fired their weapons up at them.
ZAP!
ZAP!
ZAP!
But they were going so fast they were impossible to hit.
Instead plaster exploded from the walls.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The guards at the bottom of the stairs didn’t stand a chance.
WHACK!
Alfred flew SLAP BANG into them, knocking them over.
CLONK! CLONK! CLONK!
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The three old ladies stepped over them as they raced out of the clock tower and back into the Houses of Parliament. Retracing their steps, they twisted and turned along the maze of hallways, into the chamber, until they finally reached the smashed window through which they had entered.
“GO! GO! GO!” ordered the Old Queen, making sure she was the last to leave.
The four slid down the rope and landed back on the bow of HMS Sceptre.
“We did it, Grammy!” said the boy.
“You did it, Alfred!” she replied. “Now to the Tower!”
But, just as they were hurrying back inside the submarine, something parted the black clouds in the sky and loomed over them. It was the airship!
“Oh no!” said Alfred.
A flurry of laser shots rained down from above.
ZAP!
ZAP!
ZAP!
The Old Queen was hit in the back.
“AHH!” she cried as she fell face forward into the black water.
SPLASH!
“NOOOOOO!” screamed Alfred.
Grammy was floating face down in the water. Alfred rushed to the side of the submarine, as laser blast after laser blast scorched the hull of HMS SCEPTRE from the airship above.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
“GRAMMY!” he cried as he tried to slide down into the water to reach her.
Enid yanked him back.
“I know you love her, but you can’t help her now,” she implored. “Get inside before you are blasted to pieces too.”
“NO!” cried the boy.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
“YOU ARE COMING WITH ME!” ordered Enid, and she dragged Alfred inside the submarine as laser blasts rained down all around them.
“GRAMMY!”
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Once inside, HMS Sceptre lurched off at speed as more laser blasts hit the hull.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Tears rolled down Alfred’s face.
“I can’t believe Grammy’s gone,” he sobbed.
“The Old Queen died how she would have wanted to,” spluttered a tearful Agatha. “A hero.”
“Much better to die a hero than live as a coward,” remarked Enid, choking back her tears.
“Shot in the back!” said Alfred.
“But with her head held high!” continued a distraught Enid. “The best way we can honour her now is to complete her mission. We must save this country. I speak for all us ladies when I say we will serve you now, Prince Alfred. We await your orders, sir.”
They all looked to the boy. Alfred took a deep breath. He was not ready for this. Not ready at all. He was only twelve, and still in his pyjamas. But now was the moment for him to embrace his destiny.
“To the Tower!”
All the old ladies rushed to their posts on the submarine. Alfred stood up, dried his eyes on his sleeve and resumed his position by the periscope. It took all his strength just to stand there, and not collapse to the floor with grief. He had never felt more broken.
“Is the target in sight, sir?” asked Agatha.
“Yes. The Tower of London is in sight,” replied the boy.
“Shall we load the torpedo?” said Enid.
Alfred looked down at the orb ready to be wheeled into position. He hesitated. His mother was still locked in the Tower.
“Are you positive that thing isn’t going to blow the whole place to smithereens?”
“Just a hole, sir,” replied Enid. “A big one, but a hole. It is meant to take down a destroyer. Not a city.”
“And all the prisoners would have heard the thirteen chimes,” added Agatha. “They know it is coming. What would you like us to do, sir?”
For the first time in his life, Alfred realised that life and death was in his hands. The responsibility of being a prince, and leader of men – or, rather, old ladies – was upon him.
“Load the torpedo!” he ordered.
The ladies-in-waiting struggled with
the weight of it, and Alfred went to help them. Just like the submarine itself, the torpedo dated back to World War One. It was battered and cracked, and Alfred wondered whether it would go off. It was two hundred years old, after all.
Lifting it from the cradle, Agatha cried out, “Oh! My back’s gone!”
The torpedo slipped out of her hands. Just as it was about to smash on to the floor, and goodness knows what…
KAAAABOOOOOMMM?
…Alfred took the extra weight just in time.
“Phew,” exclaimed Enid.
“Phew indeed,” agreed the boy.
With great care, the torpedo was loaded into the tube.
“ORB is ready to launch!” announced Agatha.
Alfred gulped before making the announcement. “FIRE!”
Then…
NOTHING HAPPENED.
NOTHING AT ALL.
NOT A SAUSAGE.
NOTHING.
“Sorry!” said Agatha. “I think I left the safety catch on.”
She flicked a switch.
CLICK!
“Oh dear. Right! Ready!”
“FIRE!” commanded Alfred again.
This time he could feel something was happening. The entire submarine rattled. Then…
BANG!
The torpedo shot from the cylinder.
Through the periscope, Alfred could make it out, surging down the river…
WHOOSH!
before…
KABOOM!
It hit the Tower of London and exploded.
In an instant, the ancient building was in flames. Smoke billowed across the river. Through it, Alfred could make out figures diving into the water below.
“TO THE SURFACE!” he ordered.
As soon as the submarine had ascended, Alfred raced up the ladder and leaped on to the hull. He was desperate to spot his mother in amongst all the prisoners leaping from the burning building into the River Thames.
SPLISH!
SPLASH!
SPLOSH!
Most were swimming to the far side of the river. Alfred spotted a figure behind the others. He remembered his mother could not swim very well. He plunged into the water…
SPLOSH!
…and swam over to her.
“Mama!” he called.
“Lionheart! I knew you’d save me!” she replied.
Bobbing in the water, she held him close.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
The Queen held her son even tighter, and their heads went under the water.
BLUB! BLUB! BLUB!
“You nearly drowned me!” exclaimed Alfred.
“I am sorry. I just love you too much.”
“Come on!” said Alfred. He took her hand and together they swam towards the submarine.
When they had reached the relative safety of the vessel, they heaved themselves up on to it.
“Where is Grammy?” asked his mother, looking around.
Alfred shook his head. He couldn’t bear to say it.
“Gone?” she asked.
The boy nodded his head.
“No!” Tears welled in the Queen’s eyes. “No. Not dear old Grammy. How did she die?”
“Shot in the back.”
“I am sorry. I know how much you loved her.”
“Oh, I did. I really did.”
“And I know how much she loved you. There will always be a part of Grammy inside you – never forget that.”
“I won’t, Mama.”
Just then a small voice in the water cried out, “D-d-don’t forget about m-m-me!”
Alfred squinted to make out who it was.
“M-M-MITE!” he cried.
Together he and the Queen hauled her out of the water.
“Thanks!” said the little girl. “I thought I was a goner.”
Laser blasts began exploding all around them.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The three held on tight to the hull as HMS Sceptre powered away from the blazing Tower of London.
Alfred saluted.
“Goodbye, Grammy,” he said as her body drifted down the river.
All along the riverbank, people came out of their hiding places.
They had heard the thirteen bongs of Big Ben.
They were ready for REVOLUTION!
On seeing the submarine surging along the Thames, with a Union Jack flying from its hull, cheers went up across London.
“HOORAY!”
The poor. The hungry. The homeless. Now was their time to fight back against the evil regime that had kept them living in fear for so long. They waved their own Union Jack flags high in the air.
With a loudspeaker, the Queen spoke from the hull of the submarine: “It is time for the Lord Protector’s evil dictatorship to end! We will tear down the flag of the griffin, and replace it with the flag of our great nation!”
“HOORAY!”
A portly man of Indian descent called out from the riverbank. He was waving a severely out-of-date bag of marshmallows, and shouting, “Anyone looking for a special offer on some delicious mallowmarshes?”
It was FUTURE RAJ! He was exactly the same as normal Raj, but his confectionery was even more out of date.
“Smile and wave, dear,” prompted the Queen. “Smile and wave. That’s what we royals do.”
Alfred, not used to being out in public, did as his mother said, even though it felt a bit silly.
ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!
It felt even sillier when more laser blasts from the airship above hit the submarine.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Lord Protector’s flying machine was chasing them.
“QUICKLY! INSIDE! NOW!” shouted the boy, and he held his mother’s and Mite’s hands and led them down inside HMS Sceptre to safety.
The ladies-in-waiting found blankets for the two new arrivals and wrapped them up tight.
“The last time I saw you, Nanny was taking you to the palace kitchen to get some chocolate,” began Alfred. “How did you end up locked in the Tower of London?”
The little girl was shivering with cold. “I d-d-didn’t g-g-get n-n-no ch-ch-chocolate!”
“No?”
“I w-w-waited and-d-d w-w-waited. Th-th-then, n-n-next th-th-thing I kn-kn-know, the-the-the r-r-room is-s-s f-f-full of-f-f g-g-guards!”
The Queen began listening to the conversation.
“That’s strange,” said Alfred.
“Is-s-s it-t-t?” asked Mite.
Did the little girl know something he didn’t?
“Yes,” joined in the Queen. “It is strange. Nanny has been in the royal household for all her working life. She looked after my little Lionheart here.”
With that, she looked lovingly at her son and stroked his hair.
Alfred glowed with embarrassment that his mother was doing this in front of the girl.
“I d-d-don’t tr-tr-trust her one b-b-bit,” said Mite.
The boy went deep into his mind.
There were some things about Nanny that were hard to explain.
Why did he feel so much better now he wasn’t eating her eggy-wegg every morning?
Why did Nanny insist on locking him in his bedroom?
Why did she not believe him about the statue of the griffin being used in the ritual, even when he found his father’s blood on it?
As quickly as Alfred had had these thoughts, he dismissed them. Nanny had cared for him since he was a baby, the King before him too – there was no way she could be involved in the Lord Protector’s evil plans. The last Alfred had heard, the wicked man was interrogating her!
“Where to, Captain?” asked Enid, waking the boy up from his daydream.
“Buckingham Palace!” replied the prince. “Full speed ahead. We must get there before all of London does.”
“Goodness, yes,” agreed the Queen. “I fear the angry mob will tear my husband limb from limb. They will blame the King for this
tyrannical rule, and not the real villain, the Lord Protector.”
“We must save the King,” called out the prince.
“Full speed ahead to the palace!” shouted Agatha.
Alfred took his place at the periscope. Looking through it, he spied platoons of royal guards taking positions on Westminster Bridge. If the gang tried to disembark from the submarine at that point, there would be a massacre.
“Blast!” said the prince. “We are not going to be able to get close to the palace.”
“It’s impossible,” agreed the Queen.
There were murmurs of agreement from the old dears.
Mite spoke up. “It’s not impossible. I know a way.”
“You don’t mean…?” began Alfred.
“The Tube tunnel I swam up!” exclaimed the girl.
“But would a submarine fit?”
“It should do,” she replied. “This thing is about the same size as one of those old Tube trains. I just need to show you the place where the tunnel meets the Thames.”
Enid unrolled a map of London, and Mite began trying to make sense of it all. Finally, she pointed to a spot and shouted, “THERE! RIGHT OPPOSITE THE LONDON EYE!”
The ladies all gathered around to study the map.
“There, deep under the water level, is a giant hole. It must have been created by an explosion. That’s the way into the Tube tunnel!”
All the old dears shook their heads.
“What?” demanded Mite.
“You can’t pilot a submarine up the !” exclaimed Enid.
“If it’s wide enough, then why not?” asked Alfred. “Otherwise, we’ll be nothing but target practice for the royal guards.”
“That’s a big if,” muttered Agatha.
“Look,” began Alfred, “we don’t have time to argue about this. For all we know, the griffin could be about to destroy all of London!”
There were mutters of agreement from all the ladies-in-waiting.
“The prince is right,” said Enid.
“Ladies!” began Agatha. “Let’s do this!”
“To your stations!” commanded Alfred.
“That’s my boy!” the Queen proclaimed proudly.
In moments, HMS Sceptre was surging through the water towards the entrance to the Tube tunnel.
Using the ancient radar…
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
…the exact location of the hole was found.
The Beast of Buckingham Palace Page 12
